Thomas Middleton
Thomas Middleton was born in London in 1580, a city that formed the setting for his life as a citizen of the Kingdom of England. The precise date of his birth is recorded variously, with sources placing it either on the twenty-eighth of April or the eighth of May of that year. He received his education at Christ's Hospital before continuing his studies at The Queen's College, a course of schooling that brought him through two distinct institutions.
Middleton worked as a playwright, poet, writer, and dramaturge, composing in the English language during the Jacobean period. Among his notable works is The Changeling, a play that forms part of his documented output as a working dramatist. Women Beware Women is another notable work associated with his name, and together these two plays represent the portion of his writing that has been recorded in the available account of his career.
His roles as playwright, dramaturge, and poet indicate a range of involvement in the production of written and performed work. He composed in English, and his activity as a dramaturge suggests engagement with theatrical work that extended alongside his work as a poet and writer. The Jacobean period provided the context within which he carried out this work as a citizen of the Kingdom of England.
Middleton died in London in 1627, the same city in which he had been born. The date of his death is given variously as the twelfth or the fourteenth of July of that year. He had worked as a playwright, poet, writer, and dramaturge throughout his career, and his death in London in 1627 marks the documented close of the life of an English Jacobean playwright and poet who had been educated at Christ's Hospital and The Queen's College.
Quotes by Thomas Middleton

FRANCISCUS: How sweetly she looks! Oh, but there’s a wrinkle in her brow as deep as philosophy.

How sweetly she looks! O, but there’s a wrinkle in her brow as deep as philosophy. – Anacreon, drink to my mistress’ health, I’ll pledge it. Stay, stay, there’s a spider in the cup! No, ’tis but a grape-stone; swallow it, fear nothing, poet. So, so; lift higher.







